


Jingle Bell Rock

by blenalela



Series: we make do - Generation Kill Modern AU Christmas Edition [3]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, doc bryan is fed up as always, nate questions why his friends are this fucking stupid, the journey of the inflatable reindeer continues, their dog reappears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blenalela/pseuds/blenalela
Summary: After the inflatable reindeer had to be evacuated from Brad and Nate's flat, it found it's way over to Q-Tip and Christeson. Only that there it summoned some minor or major catastrophes.
Relationships: John Christeson/Evan Stafford
Series: we make do - Generation Kill Modern AU Christmas Edition [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560694
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Jingle Bell Rock

** Jingle Bell Rock **

****

John was standing on the veranda of their little one floor house, a screw driver in his hands. He was currently working on getting the outside electricity outlet to work after the incident last summer that made it shortcut.

His and Q-Tip’s plan was for it to work at all times. It was Christmas and Christmas wasn’t complete without stuff like this outside.

And since all the huge light chains couldn’t be hung up this year (also the fault of the summer-incident), they had needed something else, but didn’t have the money to afford it.

Unbelievable that Brad would have thrown this wonderful thing in the garbage bin. It made Christeson shake his head. When Ray had brought it over and asked if they’d want it they had shrieked a loud yes before he even got to finish his sentence.

And that was the story of how they got giant inflatable Rudolph that had actually been meant for Brad and Nate.

Back inside, he wandered in on Q-Tip feeding Snoop Dogg. The Rottweiler was sitting right next to the blond who was occupied with creating the perfect bowl of dog food while slowly rapping the ingredients for the dog to know about what he was going to eat. Not that he specifically cared about it, but Q-Tip took the excited look of the dog as approval to his impromptu rap session.

“The Royal Canin to the rice to the carrots, and topping it off with some lukewarm water to make the perfect meal for the perfect dog, my little Snoop Dogg!”

Then he turned his serious voice, the one he only used for the Snoop when he needed him to listen to his commands. “Sit.” John couldn’t recall any other time he heard him speak like this. No, he firmly believed this wasn’t an actual part of the Q-Tip-DNA and using it too much would hurt him.

Little Snoop sat at what could be called ‘attention’ and watched after him with as he walked away with his bowl, but didn’t move an inch.

Q-Tip put the bowl down right next to the water bowl, silently counted to five and then let him eat.

“Your dog is the funkiest little boy ever.”

Ray sat at the dinner table, after he brought the reindeer over he simply had invited himself over for dinner. Walt was at work, he had the night shift today.

Ray had the week off, so ‘he could party as much as he wanted to’. The cab driver was still mighty proud of what he had called the ‘most amazing piece of shit for Christmas’ and expressed his sorrow for not having the needed space for it in his own flat.

He was currently dissecting something that seemed to be made of gingerbread and vaguely resembled a house, but neither Q-Tip nor Christeson were good at baking. So it looked like a collapsed cave volcano with lava in the form of white icing.

“Maybe you should ask Pappy for help with the next one.”

“Man, that shit thing looked screwby before I fucking dropped it!”

Ray needed a second to process it, but then laughed out loud. “You fucking dropped it?”

Q-Tip pulled his doo-rag from his head, revealing his light blond hair. “I tripped over the dog.”

Now Ray was practically screaming laughing, half lying on the table. Christeson was grinning from ear to ear, silently laughing with him, but not wanting Evan to hear him.

“Bro, you too? Stop it, man. If you made the icing stickier, nothing would have happened!”

“It slammed into the ground with you on top of it!”

Ray fell from his chair with a loud rumble. Snoop Dogg went over to examine the scene. Grumbling, Q-Tip went back over to the kitchen, to clean up the mess he made when he prepared Snoop’s dinner. All the while, he whispered various insults directed towards the two.

With a loud groan, Ray got up from the floor, wiped his face with his hands to free it from dog slobber and then wiped his hands at his jeans. “I’m gonna go home, don’t want you to expect me to help cleaning this mess up. Thanks homes, you really need to call me when you have the big boy outside working, I want to see your neighbors’ reactions. Need to see if they’re as great as Brad’s.”

He waved at them, gave Snoop Dogg a huge (and loud) kiss on the top of his head and out he was.

John went over to help Q-Tip with washing-up. He bumped his hip against Q-Tip’s and promptly got the radio moderator’s bony ass thrown against him. They went back and forth with that for a second, snickering and practically whacking each other through the whole kitchen.

But as Evan was this close to falling over the dog for a second time today, they decided to stop with what little common sense they had left and started actually doing the dishes. John was cleaning them while Q-Tip was drying them.

What had started as good teamwork ended in a legitimate water fight with a half flooded kitchen and the gingerbread house on the dinner table now not only broken and smashed à la Q-Tip, but also wet.

As well as Evan and John were. By now, they were sitting in the puddle of water instead of hovering over the sink, caught up in a rap battle with _Power_ from _Kanye West_. Whoever messed a line up had to engage the other in a little make-out session, which wasn’t really a punishment for either of them, but was a fun way to make the whole thing even more interesting. Though the risk of completely forgetting about the game and doing things that shouldn’t be done in front of such an innocent creature as Snoop Dogg was.

Suddenly, the door bell rang. Like a race horse, Snoop leaped for the door, barking loudly and therefore waking John and Q-Tip from their little game. Getting up fast, John followed the Rottweiler to the door and opened it, only to be greeted with Nate holding a huge bag with presumably more stuff Ray had left him and Brad which the latter wanted out of his direct perimeter.

The attorney looked the completely wet Christeson up and down, and did the same thing with Q-Tip, who was standing a few feet farther back, holding Snoop Dogg back from attacking Nate with what could only be called an aggressive cuddle attack. “Should I come back later?”

“Naw, man, it’s all screwby, come on in!” Q-Tip called from the back.

Reluctantly, Nate stepped into the house and stopped again when his gaze fell onto the kitchen that resembled a public swimming pool (except for the piss in the water).

“Maybe I should really come back some other day.” Starting to back out of the watery mess, he was thrown to the ground when Q-Tip had let the dog loose. Now he was on the floor, helplessly trying to get the dog off of him (he sincerely loved him, he’d wanted to have his own dog, but for Brad and him, who both worked full-time jobs, that was irresponsible), since a Rottweiler wasn’t exactly as light as a feather and Nate was concerned for his ribcage.

Concentrating all of his power into his arms, he pushed the dog off of him and quickly got up, before he could get attacked again.

“So, Brad asked me to get rid of this talking cat with the Christmas hat, the yodeling mistletoes and the gingerbread shaving cream.” Nate placed everything neatly on the table, then furrowed his eyebrows as he saw the gingerbread house. “What is that?”

“A gingerbread house, can’t you see?” Q-Tip answered dryly.

“Where do you buy gingerbread shaving cream?” Christeson yelled holding the can.

“Ah, yes. Now that you mention it.” He turned his gaze to Christeson and added: “Ask Ray.”

“Ain’t it screwby? Tastes good too, you want a bite?”

“No thanks, I’m assured it’s good, but Brad and I just ate dinner.”

“And what’s with the yodeling mistletoes? I ain’t hearin’ nothin’.” Q-Tip was now looking like a pouty child, but honestly, Nate didn’t want to get whatever bacteria was spreading through that… No, he couldn’t go on calling it a gingerbread house.

“You need to hang them up and stand under them. Ray put them above the toilet. Brad almost got a heart attack.”

“Did he get that scared?”

John and Nate both shot Stafford a blank look.

“Alright, alright, I’m just gonna shut up. Yo, Nate, can you play the doorway for a second?”

Now, Nate had first thought they were playing games with him, but right this second he was standing on one of the chairs in their dining room, holding one of the yodeling mistletoes up high while trying not to ask himself why and how the hell the chair was wet too.

The two grown-up men were walking towards him and were already giggling like two school girls. Sometimes, Nate wondered how either one of them was able to work like a normal adult when in reality they were like this. Two Ray Persons on the loose without a Walt to keep an eye on them.

And he also asked himself why he had joined in on this. What made him agree to be a doorway? He didn’t know, but he somewhat felt like a kindergartner.

As soon as they stood under Nate’s extended arm, the mistletoe did in fact begin to yodel. Nate wanted to slap his hand flat against his forehead when the two almost pushed him off the chair as they pulled each other in, screaming in happiness while placing a big, fat kiss on the other’s mouth.

Suppressing a sigh, he stepped down and put the (still) yodeling mistletoe down on the table again.

“You need me to show you another one of those things or can I go?” He slowly started to make his way over to the front door, Snoop Dogg behind him, begging to get another scratch behind his ears.

The threat of Nate leaving already made an idea plop up in Christeson’s mind which he was surely going to regret in about fifteen minutes. “Hey, you want to see your inflatable reindeer?”

Evan was on board, he jumped up and ran in the direction of the bathroom, presumably turning the electricity for the outlet on the veranda on. Then he swiftly steered around the dog standing in the middle of the room and was out of the front door, plugging the thing in, before John could realize his mistake and before Nate could do anything to maybe prevent the catastrophe that was bound to happen of which he didn’t know yet.

Sometimes, life was a dick to Nate.

Seconds later, a scream could be heard from outside and the lights went out.

“You are a bunch of idiots, all of you, have I ever told you that?” Doc Bryan grumbled as he was carefully dripping disinfecting alcohol on Q-Tip’s burned hand. He hissed in pain and the doctor simply hissed back in grumpiness.

John was sitting right behind his boyfriend, holding the good hand and snuggling him from behind. Nate was just standing next to the scene, not really believing how so many of his friends were so incapable of basic living.

“And second, I’m not your personal doctor. This was the third and last time.”

“You mean this week or forever?” Q-Tip asked shyly, leaning back against John’s chest. Snoop Dogg waddled over and put his head on Evan’s thigh, sensing the immediate menace that was the doctor.

Doc shot him a glare that said it all.

Then he looked over at Nate. “Couldn’t you take care of them in the few seconds you’re here? Maybe not let them turn on the outlet they busted on last year’s barbecue?”

“To be honest, it was Ray who poured the orange juice into it.” Christeson interjected, his mouth hidden in his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I don’t care if it was Jesus himself that poured fucking orange juice into that thing. Why would you even do that?”

“He wanted the house to get some vitamins.”

“How could you give him this much alcohol? Are you this blockheaded?”

“It was Ray. For all we know he doesn’t need to be drunk to do shit like this.” Nate said, shrugging.

“Then Brad should keep him on a fucking leash. They sell them for children, it’s perfect for tat fucker.”

“Why not Walt?”

“You’re afraid Brad would be to occupied with keeping an eye on Ray that he doesn’t have time for sticking his tongue in your mouth? God bless Walt, but that kid is just too kind. Giving him custody of Ray would be like a dog walking his owner.” Doc Bryan shook his head. “Also, working in candlelight is bullshit.”

The Doc wrapped a bandage around Evan’s hand, disbelieve still glistening in his eyes. He was always talking about Ray as if he were a child. Which he was, especially in the doctor’s eyes. (Oh, who are we kidding, everyone’s eyes. That’s why he shares a flat. Can’t have him live on his own.)

“Seriously, one day, I’m going to let you all die.”

Nate wasn’t quite sure why he had lined up with Christeson and Stafford, silently nodding to Doc Bryan’s lecture. Maybe it was just that whoever the Doc was speaking to, any bystander immediately felt talked to as well.

“Do you wanna take a piece of the gingerbread house we prepared with you? Like sorta waving the white-flag?” Q-Tip offered.

Instead of answering, he shot the three a look that said it all:

_One more word, and I’ll smile killing you._

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece of my very own 5 words challenge:
> 
> Royal Canin  
> Race horse  
> Garbage bin  
> Gingerbread House  
> Candlelight


End file.
